


In Love With the Shape of You

by therecognitionscene



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Public Sex, in a cluuuuub, smuuuuuuut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 19:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10520790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therecognitionscene/pseuds/therecognitionscene
Summary: Mitch gets dragged to a club so his cute boyfriend can dance, and he discovers that maybe it's not all that bad of an experience.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Long Exposure and all its characters belong to smokeplanet.
> 
> special thanks to abi for proofreading this for me! again, i don't edit my own work once i finish with it because im trash, so please pardon any mistakes that i've missed.

He is nowhere near drunk enough for this. 

Hence the five shots he downs in quick succession, barely even registering the burn of the vodka as it slides down his throat. The bartender eyes him like he’s afraid Mitch is gonna pull out a knife or something, but he has no reason to worry; Jonas made him leave his pocket knife at home, after all. He slaps some money down on the bar, pockets his fake ID, and turns, slouching back against the counter as he glares at out at the dance floor. He can see Jonas, Sidney, and Claire all dancing together in the middle of the floor to some agonizingly upbeat pop song, jumping and singing along and laughing. Mitch scowls. At least they’re having fun.

This place had been Jonas’ idea. Well, Sidney’s, actually, and to be even more specific, it had been Sidney’s new friend Claire who’d first made the suggestion that they head to the next city over and check out a club that had recently opened. From there it had been a domino effect: Claire wouldn’t go unless Sidney went, Sidney wouldn’t go unless Jonas went, and Jonas--bless his adorable fucking heart--wouldn’t go unless Mitch went. Never mind that Mitch would literally rather carve his own eyes out with a butter knife than go to one of those neon-lit, glittered up hell holes. 

But Jonas had batted those dark lashes of his and peppered kisses on Mitch’s cheek and he, Mitchell Nathan Mueller, once one of the most feared persons at Sellwood High, had said yes.

What a huge fucking mistake.

It’s just as bad as he thought it would be. The room is lit up by neon strobe lights that bounce around the darkened space, painting the bodies crowded together on the dance floor in bright blues and yellows and greens. A DJ, decked out in the stupidest outfit Mitch has ever seen, keeps remixing songs and whipping out dance moves that are, in Mitch’s expert opinion, dumb as shit; Mitch sort of wants to go up there and clock him, but he promised Jonas he’d behave tonight so he stays put, grumbling to himself and ordering another drink instead. Jonas would frown at him if he knew how much alcohol Mitch has already consumed, but Jonas--who is ninety percent of Mitch’s impulse control--isn’t paying attention to his imbibing right then, and Mitch is gonna need at least seven more beers if he’s gonna make it through the night.

He nurses the bottle and keeps an eye on his boyfriend to make sure no one tries to hit on him, but otherwise keeps his distance. Jonas smiles at him and attempts to wave him over to the group a few times but Mitch just shakes his head, raising his bottle up and winking at him in reply. The younger boy is having a good time; Mitch won’t ruin it for him with his piss-poor attitude and ungracefully gangly body. Jonas deserves a fun night out; after all, they only have another month before Jonas’ first semester of college starts, and he knows how stressed the younger boy has been about it.

Washington. The state had never seemed all that far away before, but now that it’s stealing his boyfriend from him, Mitch feels like it’s on an entirely different planet. Jonas promises that they’ll still see each other all the time; Skype is a glorious goddamned thing, after all, and Jonas says he’s planning on coming home to Sellwood each and every break. He’s even invited Mitch up to his campus, telling him about all the exciting things he’ll be able to show him once his studies start. Mitch is happy for him, he really is: Jonas is going to be joining one of the best marine biology programs in the country. He just wishes that he could follow his small boyfriend wherever he goes, but… Well. He’s Mitch. No prospects, no talent, no hope of ever really making something of his life. Best that he stays to the side, stays behind, and cheers Jonas on from there.

Actually, fuck, best that he doesn’t think about it tonight at all, about how alone he’s going to be again and how cold it will be with his own personal sun hundreds of miles away, brightening up the lives of strangers while Mitch stays in the dark. He still has Jonas here with him for another full four weeks; he can mope and be a sad sack of shit later. For now he has a mostly full beer and the sight of Jonas dancing to keep himself distracted from their inevitable separation, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let his own feelings ruin Jonas’ remaining time at home. 

So he pushes his brooding thoughts to the back of his mind and locks them away for the time being, determined to put on a good show for his boyfriend.

An hour or two passes in that fashion, Jonas dancing and Mitch drinking, and by the bottom of his fourth bottle of beer, Mitch is feeling pretty good. Well, maybe not good, but better, at least. The music doesn’t seem quite so annoying anymore and he doesn’t scowl quite as hard at every person who passes by him. Jonas coming up periodically and giving him chaste kisses certainly helps, and it’s fun to watch his little boyfriend get tipsier and tipsier each time Sidney sneaks him a sip of whipped cream vodka from the water bottle she’d smuggled in. Jonas rarely ever indulges in alcohol, and he’s as lightweight as they come. It’s adorable. It makes Mitch laugh to see the way Jonas’ smile becomes lazy and easy, to feel the way Jonas leans all his weight against him when he comes up and throws his arms around Mitch’s waist. 

At some point he even finds himself nodding along to the beat of the song, a song that has Jonas, Sidney, and Claire singing at the top of their lungs as they dance. He’s too drunk to care all that much about how he’s supposed to be hating all of this, actually just enjoying himself for a moment there, when the DJ starts mixing the song with a new beat. 

The shift catches Mitch off guard: the synthesized, bubbly tune that had been playing starts to melt into something more… Dirty. That’s the only word Mitch’s fuzzy mind can come up with as the deep, booming bass--which before had been more in the background than anything else-- takes center stage and starts to reverberate through his body. The crowd stalls for a moment, just as taken aback by the change as he is; the lighting morphs from bright neon hues to deeper, full bodied reds and maroons, giving the whole room a very sensual, intimate vibe.

The club patrons adapt quickly and start coupling up, sweaty bodies beginning to grind together with slow, filthy movements as the air around them grows hotter and thicker. Mitch can see Sidney and Claire where they’re dancing together on the floor: Claire has her ass pressed to Sidney’s groin, her hands covering Sid’s and running them up and down her body as Jonas’ twin mouths at her neck. Mitch swallows hard, darting his gaze around frantically to try and find Jonas. Has someone asked him to dance? Would Jonas say yes? Mitch wouldn’t be able to blame him, he knows he’s not the ideal date for this sort of scene, but the idea of Jonas dancing with someone else makes Mitch nervous.

“Hey.”

Mitch blinks and looks down; Jonas, his beautiful, perfect Jonas, is standing right in front of him, smiling slyly up at Mitch’s blushing face. A soft hand reaches out and takes his, gently leading him away from the bar and out onto the dance floor. Mitch, dumb with alcohol and the sight of Jonas’ perfect body, stumbles along blindly after his boyfriend, letting himself be led right into the middle of the undulating crowd. The scent of booze and sex surrounds them like a perfume, filling Mitch’s nostrils and head as Jonas rises onto his tiptoes and presses his lips against Mitch’s ear. 

“Dance with me.”

Mitch nods, because of course he’ll dance with Jonas, why hasn’t he been dancing with Jonas this whole night? Joey, who’s so perfect and so pliant under his hands, who turns around to press his back flush to Mitch’s front, who takes Mitch’s hands and places them on his hips as he starts to move to the music, every swirl of his hips deliberate and drawn out and perfectly timed with the thudding of Mitch’s heart. 

Mitch thinks he’s going to explode. 

It takes a moment for him to find the rhythm, the older boy struggling as a distant voice in his brain tries to convince him that he’s completely unattractive in this moment and must look like a damned idiot out here on the floor, but that traitorous voice grows just a bit quieter when Joey takes the lead.

Jonas moves like he’s made for this, all sultry dips and sways that Mitch, tall and awkward and self-conscious, attempts to mimic. It’s hard, frustratingly so, and Mitch stays tense and rigid even as Jonas melts against him. That’s when the younger boy snakes an arm up and lays his hand across the back of Mitch’s neck, looking up at him with eyes like melted chocolate.

“You’re thinking about this too much,” Joey teases, giggling drunkenly and grinning up at Mitch. “Relax. Just dance with me.” He takes one of Mitch’s hands and intertwines their fingers, lifting it so he can kiss at Mitch’s perpetually bruised knuckles. “I love you. Relax.”

Mitch’s heart lights up and the tension he’d been holding in his body starts to slowly seep out of him. Joey loves him. Joey wants this. 

Mitch wants it too.

It comes so much easier now, the movement of their bodies, and Mitch stops focusing so much on what he’s doing and just does. They’re moving in tandem, like they’re meant to slot together the way they do, and Mitch grins at how easy it all is with Jonas, how quickly his little boyfriend can assuage his worries and set his mind at ease. The younger boy has Mitch wrapped around his littlest finger; Jonas says dance, Mitch dances. Jonas says relax, Mitch relaxes. Jonas says touch me, Mitch--

Holy shit.

Jonas is actually saying ‘touch me’, in a voice so soft and quiet that Mitch isn’t 100% sure he’s meant to hear that desperate plea. But he does, and some of the fog lying low over his mind dissipates. He reclaims his hands and settles them low on Jonas’ hips, right below the soft swell of his belly; his fingers dig in until he feels the sharp jut of Joey’s pelvis and it’s his turn to brush his lips against the other’s ears, leaning over him and smirking.

“Wha’ was that, Spots? Y’want me to touch you? Right here, out in the middle of public?”

A whine bubbles up from Jonas, a sound that Mitch feels more than hears. He chuckles low and lewd, back in charge and holding Jonas in his big hands like putty. “That’s pretty dirty, babe. Anyone could look over and see, but ya know that, don’t ya?” Not likely: everyone is quite preoccupied with their own partner, but the threat--the very real possibility--of someone catching them groping each other is delicious. Almost as delicious as Joey is when Mitch presses an open-mouth kiss to the side of the boy’s neck, his tongue poking out to drag along darkly tanned skin. Jonas’ back arches, pressing his ass directly against Mitch’s crotch where he’s already half-hard and aching. Mitch growls, low and deep in his throat, and sinks his teeth into Joey’s tender flesh, worrying at the skin and sucking a deep red mark right above his collar-line. 

“Y’know I never say no to you, Spots,” he rumbles, one hand holding Jonas’ hips firmly back in place so he can grind his erection against the plump softness of Joey’s ass. His other hand, clever and mean, sneaks up to pinch at one of Jonas’ nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. Joey’s head tips back, his mouth falling open in a wet exhale that Mitch feels against his cheek, and he pinches again, tugging at the tender nub and rolling it between his fingers. 

“M--Mitch,” Jonas whimpers, his cheeks flushed a deep wine red from alcohol and sex. He’s pouting, a big sad puppy dog pout as he squirms against Mitch’s touches, unsure whether he wants to escape them or beg for more, but Mitch gets his answer when he looks down and sees where Jonas is chubbing up in his pants. The older boy presses a kiss to the hickey he just made and rubs his thumb soothingly against the tender nipple, his hips never once stopping their graceless, impatient rutting against Jonas. 

“My poor lil’ Joey,” he coos into Jonas’ ear as his boyfriend huffs and glares up at him with unfocused, glossy eyes. “So sensitive.” Jonas’ blush flames up hotter and fiercer and Mitch laughs, the rough sound lost to the primal beat of the music. His palm smooths its way down Jonas’ chest, over the gentle roundness of his tummy, fingertips brushing along the waistband of his boyfriend’s jeans. Jonas blinks his eyes in surprise but Mitch catches him with a kiss before he can say anything, his tongue pushing its way greedily into Joey’s eager, willing mouth.

Small orbs of rose and plum begin dancing around them the longer they kiss, unconscious manifestations of Joey’s emotions and feelings, but they blend in with the roving strobe lights of the club; no one besides Mitch notices them, or sees the way they spike when Mitch dips a finger down underneath Jonas’ waistband long enough to find the leaking head of his pretty little cock. He swirls his fingertip through the sticky liquid before retracting his hand completely, bringing it up to Jonas’ wet, swollen lips. Joey, his freckled little minx, lets Mitch smear his own precum around his mouth before he pokes his tongue out and licks up the mess. The sight makes Mitch’s cock jump in his jeans, aching to be inside of Jonas where he’s hot and tight and perfect. 

“Fuck, Spots,” Mitch grunts, dropping his hand back down and abandoning all pretenses; if he could, he’d take Jonas right then and there, finger him open just enough so he could cram his dick into him and fuck him to a wet, sloppy orgasm. As it is, he settles for pressing the heel of his palm against Jonas’ cock and rubbing down almost cruelly against it. Jonas yelps, his eyes flying open wide and startled; his hands fly back to scrabble at Mitch’s legs as he tries to find something to hold on to, something to ground himself as Mitch rubs him off mean and hard. 

It’s so much, too much, just enough, not enough, so good it makes Jonas’ mind short-circuit and his heart hammer against his ribcage. Flashes of pink are flying off of him like sparks as he’s dragged closer and closer towards the precipice of his pleasure; he’s caught between Mitch’s hand, large and awkward and so perfect as it works him over through his jeans, and the hard, insistent press of Mitch’s cock as it grinds against his ass, tries to press between his cheeks to where he’s aching with an emptiness that’s shocking to him. He can’t do anything but hold on and take it, and that’s more than fine by him. The club, the people around them, the music, it’s all vanished; in that moment, Mitch is the only thing that exists for Jonas. Mitch, and all the wonderful, terrible, perfectly imperfect things this boy does to him.

Mitch holds Jonas tight against himself as the younger boy starts to fall to pieces. In all honesty, he’s not doing much better himself. The fact that they’re doing this right here, in the middle of all these people--the fact that Jonas trusts him enough to do this--is so mind-meltingly hot to Mitch that he’s only mere moments from busting his nut, just as worked up and helpless in the face of their lust as Jonas is. He’s breathing hard against Joey’s neck, mouthing at the juncture of his shoulder, gathering up the salt of his sweat on his tongue and savoring the earthy, purely Jonas taste. “Joey,” he pants, biting at the shell of Jonas’ ear, just to feel the way the boy jerks in his arms. “Joey, fuck, y’gonna cum in your pants for me, babe. Ya? Y’re gonna… Y’re… Fuck!!”

Jonas starts trembling so hard in his arms that Mitch nearly stops, worried he might be overdoing it, until he looks down and sees his boyfriend’s unmistakable orgasm face. He grins then, wide and toothy, squeezing at Joey’s twitching dick as the fabric of his jeans grows wet with his cum. The smell of sex hangs around them like a cloud; Mitch keeps a possessive hold on Joey, pulling his hips back as he fucks against his ass with abandon. It only takes a second, a few thrusts, before Mitch is cumming as well, grunting and panting as he fills his underwear with spurts of thick jizz. 

For a long moment after that they simply stand there, catching their breath as the people around them keep on dancing. Joey’s lights are a slowly spinning mobile that makes Mitch’s heart go all soft and fluttery when he follows them with his gaze; before Jonas can stir Mitch is turning him gently in his arms and pressing kisses to his dazed face, sweeping his dark curls away from his forehead and smiling down at him.

Jonas returns the smile, sweet and dopey, but it melts into a scowl the moment he shifts on his feet. “Ughhhhh,” he groans, leaning forward against Mitch and hiding his face on the other’s chest. “Gross.”

Mitch simply wraps his arms around Jonas and laughs.

~~~~~~~

An hour later they’re both waddling out of the club and into the cool night air, meeting up outside with Sidney and Claire. Sidney has her arm around Claire’s shoulder and they both look happily disheveled. There are lipstick prints on the side of Sid’s neck, but neither Jonas nor Mitch comment on it. After all, their state is not much better.

“You have fun, little bro?” Sidney asks, reaching out to ruffle Jonas’ hair fondly.

Jonas laughs and smiles. “Yeah, I actually did. We should definitely do this again sometime.” Mitch smirks at that and earns himself an elbow to the ribs.

Sidney looks more than pleased with herself. “Heck yeah. That’s what I like to hear! Though, you two desperately need to work on your dancing.”

Jonas gives her a quizzical look, to which Sidney and Claire both laugh. “Aw, c’mon, Joey. Claire and I saw you two. You looked like a couple of fish out of water, gasping for air.” She widens her eyes and gapes her mouth, wiggling around gracelessly. Claire dissolves into giggles. 

“It was a little painful to watch,” Claire chimes in, her and Sidney both grinning from ear to ear. 

For a moment Mitch and Jonas stand there stunned and stupid, Jonas’ cheeks burning a flaming hot red. Then he’s turning and whacking at Mitch as the taller boy dissolves into raucous cackling. 

Sidney rolls her eyes, leading Claire away from her twin and his boyfriend. “C’mon, Claire. Those two are such weirdos.”

Claire shrugs, leaning her head onto Sid’s shoulder as they walk, the sounds of Mitch’s braying laughter and Jonas’ berating trailing behind them. “They definitely are. But at least they had a good time.”

“You can say that again!” Mitch calls after them, and the two girls share a confused look as Jonas--that poor, sweet cinnamon roll-- lets out a groan.


End file.
